


Peter Parker's Field Trip (Of course it's to Stark Industries)

by ILikeTropes



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Field Trip, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Ignoring all of the drama and enjoying our found family stuff, Not compliant with anything that happened after Homecoming, Peter Parker's Field Trip to Stark Industries, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tropes, this is really self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILikeTropes/pseuds/ILikeTropes
Summary: Dear Parent and/or Guardian, your child is going on a field trip to Stark Industries.____Peter Parker has never even met Lady Luck, but somehow all he's ever done is piss her off. How else would you explain something like this?
Comments: 349
Kudos: 2632





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You all already know what this is. I refuse to apologize for anything.

**Midtown School of Science and Technology** **  
****Student Activities** **  
****Field Trip Permission Slip Form**

**  
****Dear Parent and/or Guardian, your child is going on a field trip to Stark Industries. Please read the information on the next sheet of this form and then sign and return this slip by**

Peter Benjamin Parker can easily lift ten tons. 

_(That’s 20,000 pounds for anyone keeping score at home.)_

Peter Benjamin Parker can lift twenty tons with a little more difficulty. He picked up a city bus, recently, during a mission and those things are **heavy**. 

_(Anywhere from 25,000 to 40,000 pounds for anyone keeping score at home.)_

He once strained to keep a boat from falling apart, holding it together with nothing but his web fluid and his force of will. 

_(He’d failed. Again, for those keeping score at home. He’d missed the mark, but Mr. Stark saved the day and after some wacky hijinks featuring a guy with metal wings who happened to be the father of his date and a building falling on him, forcing him to really do-or-die, he’d found out just how strong he was and just how much he hates small, dark spaces. It was a redemption arch for the ages, with a story that would make a really great movie.)_

But, somehow, the hardest thing that he’s ever had to do was lift the stack of fluorescent yellow papers that had been set down on his desk by Mr. Harrison, in the infamous “take one and pass it down” fashion. His hands shook as he took in the words printed in bold at the very top of the sheet, echoing what Mr. Harrison was saying to everyone else in the class. Peter had stopped reading after “return the permission slip” and had started staring ahead with an expression of abject horror. 

“Listen, I know it’s been a long day and you can’t wait to get out here but if I could just have your attention for a few more minutes… okay, I’ll wait.” 

Mr. Harrison leaned back against his desk and stared out at the class until the side-conversations and whispered jokes slowly trailed off. And Peter jumped when Michelle kicked the back of his chair, sending tingling vibrations through the metal desk and along his spine, giving him the very WEIRD impulse to turn and see and attack whatever got caught in his things. Spider things: not all of them are cool. 

“Are you going to share those?” Michelle asks, when he turns to look at her. 

Oh. Right. He’s not doing the passing back part of taking. He turns a little red and turns back to the stack of papers that were currently taunting him, delicately pushing one of them onto his desk and handing the rest back to Michelle, who only graced him with a delicate eyebrow raise before taking one for herself and handing the rest back. 

“Great. Now,” Mr. Harrison says, as everyone’s stopped talking. “This has been under wraps for a while because the School Board didn’t want to give you false hope. BUT. After some serious dedication and numerous emails, as well as a generous donation from the Thompson family -” 

Peter’s gaze darted over to where Flash was seated, impulsively, just in time to see a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“- I’m thrilled to announce that this Friday, we will be taking a field trip to Stark Industries as a reward for having the highest test scores in the state.” 

Somehow, even after seeing “Stark Industries” printed in bold on the form in front of him, it still feels a punch in the gut to hear it said out loud and Peter shrinks down in his seat, trying to go without being noticed as the conversations jump back up to full volume, questions being shouted out all at once. 

“Stark Industries? Are you serious?” 

“THE Stark Industries, right? Not the model on in Vegas?” 

“I’d go to Vegas! We should go there instead!” 

“Doesn’t that place get attacked like every week?” 

“Vegas?” 

“No, you stupid idiot. I meant Stark Industries.” 

“Do we have to pack our own lunches?” 

“My parents are out of town until next week! Can I have my brother sign this?” 

“Is Parker going to be giving us the tour?” 

That last question was the one he’d been dreading. Dreading so much that he would have tossed his hat into the ring for a Vegas field trip. At least Nevada had less of a chance of embarrassing him than walking around SI would. And he doesn’t even have to look over to know that Flash was the one who’d shouted that out, he can feel the superior glare burning into the back of his skull. 

Luckily, Mr. Harrison ignores that question. Just like he ignores most of Flash’s taunting of Peter. 

“Guys, guys! All the information is written on the paper. Read it over with your parents, guardians, or older brother who’s temporarily in charge of you and bring it back by Wednesday. No, I will not be accepting any of these a day later. The people at Stark Industries need to know who’s coming and they were very clear about not accepting any last minute additions. You got that? By Wednesday.” 

Well, there’s at least one genius idea for getting out of this. Peter’s already planning out how he can “accidentally” forget about the form at the bottom of his backpack until it’s too late. He can ask Aunt May to sign it Wednesday night and even make an extreme case of pleading to Mr. Harrison, knowing that he’ll ultimately be told no. That way, he’s not actually lying to his Aunt by omission AND it’ll look like an accident. It’s a solid idea, even if being devious makes his stomach a little queasy. He starts to shove the paper into his bag as the bell rings, keeping his gaze keen on adjusting the contents so that he can avoid Flash’s gaze. 

Ned makes his way over to his desk, loyal as ever and face shining with unbridled enthusiasm. 

“Peter!!!” He says, as soon as he looks up. “I can’t believe this. We’re going to Stark Industries! I mean, I know you’ve been there before and so this must be soooo boring to you but I can’t wait to see all the stuff. Do you know who’s going to be touring us? Oh, do you know what we’re going to see? Is Mr. Stark going to be there? Do you think he’ll do signatures? I’ll bring my Ironman Poster, just in case.”

“Ned!” Peter says, trying not to laugh in the face of something that has his best friend so excited. “I don’t know. I bet Mr. Stark doesn’t even know about this. And I don’t really… know the other interns.” 

Mostly because he’s not an intern. 

At least, not a traditional one. Sure, he is on the papers that were filed with the school, giving him permission to leave early sometimes, whenever a ‘superhero’ emergency came up. But he’s not the kind that goes on coffee runs or makes sure that Mr. Stark eats before his blood sugar gets too low. Friday kind of handles all of that stuff for him, setting reminders for him to eat and putting in orders for coffee that are delivered to the building and then usually brought in by Ms. Potts when she wants to check on Tony or by Ms. Potts personal assistant, Emily. His internship is the kind that’s a cover for being Spiderman. And, sure. He’s been hanging out with Mr. Stark a lot more since the Vulture-security-threat-Peter-beat-up-a-bad-guy-in-his-pajamas-and-almost-died thing, but that’s not… interning. 

That’s just sitting in the lab with him and learning about real high-tech robotics and even getting a hand in on helping with the development of suits. Things like his new watch, that he’s kept tucked under his sleeve. Packing the suit everywhere had turned out to be a real hassle, so Mr. Stark had developed this watch to keep him in touch with Karen, who in part was connected to Friday, and kept Mr. Stark in the know. It could deploy the suit, now connected to his watch, and make emergency calls to one of three contacts: Aunt May, Ms. Potts, and Mr. Stark. He could make commands to Karen, who could talk out loud or through an inconspicuous cordless microphone he wears now. It’d proven to be helpful for her to play a soothing melody the last time he had a panic attack and now he won’t go anywhere without it.

But that’s not the kind of thing that he can really brag about. Especially not at school, where almost no one believes him about interning at all. No one’s as hard on him about it as Flash is, but there’s always a buzz of agreement whenever Flash points out how “impossible” it would be for someone like Peter to ever be noticed by someone like Mr. Stark. 

...Especially since, most of the time, Peter still thinks that way too. 

But Ned knows the truth about everything. And Michelle seems to believe him, even if her keen gaze seems to be searching for something more behind the story. 

“And, anyway, I don’t spend a lot of time on the lower levels. It’s mostly just me up with Mr. Stark in his lab. It’ll be just as new to me as it is to the rest of you. Except for the food court, that place is awesome. I go there all the time.” 

“Awesome.” Ned said, breathlessly, like Peter had just talked about going to Beyonce concerts instead of grabbing two trays of the best lo-mein in the city for him and Mr. Stark when Tony doesn’t feel like going all the way downstairs to grab something to eat, no matter what Friday is refusing to let him continue to work on until he does. 

“Peter, can I speak to you for a minute?” Mr. Harrison suddenly called out, interrupting whatever question was about to ask next. “Privately, please.” 

Ned shot Peter a questioning glance but nodded. “Yeah, sure. See you later, Peter. Hey, make sure to ask your Aunt if you can come over to my house this weekend. My dad got me a new lego set!” 

“Awesome! I’ll ask.” Peter said, picking his bag off of the floor and sliding it over his shoulder, casting a slightly worried look over at Mr. Harrison. 

He shuffles toward his desk as Ned makes a hasty exit, his stomach doing a flip. Wondering if maybe he’d failed the last pop quiz they’d had -- he’d been out late the night before, past his “spider-man” curfew, stopping a mugging from happening and hadn’t had a lot of focus the next day, but he’d thought he’d done alright. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks, standing awkwardly a few feet away as Mr. Harrison takes a seat and gazes at him with something like pity in his gaze. 

“I just need to talk to you about something. Peter, listen… I understand that things have been very hard for you, lately. You’ve gone through a lot in the last year and overcome things that would have been difficult for anyone.” 

Peter can’t help but think that Mr. Harrison has NO idea, but his chest gets that uncomfortable feeling that it always does when someone starts to hedge around the subject of his parents or Uncle Ben and so he only swallows against the lump in his throat and nods, wondering where this is going. 

“I look at you and I see a very bright, very determined young man who can do anything he sets his mind to. Even a Stark Internship… once you’re old enough.” Mr. Harrison finishes, still looking at Peter gravely. “Peter, you’re a very intelligent young man. And I can see why you’d want to make yourself look more impressive. Popularity is a hell of a drug. But there’s nothing you can gain by making up stories.” 

“But, I’m not -” 

“Listen. I’m not angry with you. I’m not yelling at you. I’m telling you this for your own good. Lying about interning for Stark Industries is only going to cause you a lot of harm when the people who do trust you find out that you’ve been lying to them. And, with the internet being what it is today, it wouldn’t be hard for them to vet a future application and realize that you’d been making up stories and just like that, a real opportunity disappears because you wanted to shine a little bit before you were ready.” 

“Mr. Harrison,” Peter argues, the words feeling sharp in his throat. “I’m not lying. I swear, I’m not. I know it sounds impossible, but I have papers filed with the school and everything!” 

“Yes, I know all about that. But seeing as Stark Industries does not take on interns in high-school, let alone ones under the age of eighteen for liability reasons… bringing in forged papers was a very silly thing to do. The Principal let it slide, because I argued on your behalf. But you’ve got to stop all of this. I promise, things are going to get better. And they’ll get better on their own. You don’t have to pretend.” 

Peter ducked his head, his eyes stinging with angry tears. It was one thing to hear Flash saying things like this… one thing to hear hissed remarks of “Penis Parker”... but he likes Mr. Harrison. And he’s not even being a jerk about it; he sounds like he really cares. 

And somehow that’s worse. 

“Okay,” He manages to get out.

“Okay? Good. I’m sending an email to your Aunt, advising her to seek a counseling program for you. It’s not an obligation, but I think talking to someone will really help you. And I don’t want to hear anymore lying from you, Peter. You’re better than that, I know you are.” 

“Okay.” Peter says again, since there’s not much else to say. He doesn’t look at Mr. Harrison as he shuffles out of the classroom, eyes kept firmly on the floor.

***

“You’re late.” 

That’s Happy’s cheerful greeting to Peter as he climbs into the backseat, gingerly setting his bag onto the floor and automatically reaching for his seatbelt. 

“Sorry,” Peter murmurs, quietly, eyes still downcast like he’ll be able to avoid ever seeing the look of disappointment in someone’s eyes, again, as long as he keeps staring down. 

“Sorry?” Happy repeats, sounding bemused… and then concerned, when he speaks up again. “Kid, what’s wrong? I can’t think of a single time you’ve gotten into the car without immediately talking my ear off about whatever you did at school or asking to know what the boss has been up to or if there’s another chance for you to throw yourself in danger. You sick?” 

“I’m just tired,” Peter lies, even as his stomach flips and churns at the thought of that permission slip in the bottom of his bag. “It was a long day, you know? Um, how are you?” 

“I’m head of security at Stark Industries, forced to drive around a sixteen-year-old because my boss doesn’t trust New York’s fine Taxi service. How do you think I am?” Happy asks, but his voice is still wavering with a little concern, his usual sarcasm marred for it. “Seriously, kid. Tony’ll have my head if anything happened to you on my watch. No scrapes, bumps, or bruises. You have any of those?” 

“Nope.” Peter says, finally looking up to catch Happy gazing at him through where the privacy divider would normally be up. Usually rolled up by Happy when they got caught in traffic, so Peter could only hear his muffled road rage. “No injuries. I really am just tired.” 

Whether or not Happy believes him is up for debate, but they’re already late since Peter didn’t run from school like he usually does, and he doesn’t have time to keep quizzing him. Secretly, Peter’s grateful. This is the first time in a long time that he hasn’t felt like talking to Happy. Or anyone. He just stares out the window and hopes that his mood will improve by the time they reach the tower.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh!!! I never expected to get one read, let alone over a thousand! Thank you all so much for making my first fic in this fandom such a success. A slight clarification... this is Spider-Man: Home Coming compliant, but not compliant with much else. I'm too much of a sucker for the found family trope and the convenience of having Tony still own the Tower but also there being the Avengers Compound to deal with any of that nonsense, so if you're a stickler for hard facts and canon compliance, this may not be the story for you. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Leave me your thoughts! Comments keep me going.

Happy drove around to the private entrance of Stark Industries -- occasionally referred to as “Potts Industries” whenever Mr. Stark was feeling cheeky, though Pepper was against re-branding when the name did a wonder for sales -- and Peter offered him a halfhearted wave goodbye as he slipped out of the car, trying to ignore the worried frown that he was given in turn. 

He keeps his head down as he approaches the door, fumbling with his backpack so that he can pull out the key-card that Happy had given him when Mr. Stark had decided that Peter should be spending more time at the Tower. He slips it into the little slot and pulls on the handle when the light turns green, stepping into the pleasantly warm entrance just in time to hear Friday’s greeting him. 

“Welcome back, Peter. You are running fifteen minutes late. I will inform Boss of your arrival.” 

“Thanks, FRI.” Peter mumbled, sending a bashful smile to the secretary who ran things over here at the private entrance.

She smiled back pleasantly before looking back down at her computer. Probably checking him for weapons. There are more than a dozen cameras on him every time he comes in this way, and for good reason. This entrance was reserved for Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, and the Avengers, since that was a group of people who had a hard time walking in the front door of any place without being mobbed. Peter still wasn’t sure how he’d ever been included among their ranks. 

The elevator door chimed when Peter had, apparently, successfully passed the check. His watch would be the only thing to register as a possible threat but as a personal design of Mr. Stark, any attempts to have FRI do a more detailed examination would be met with a restricted access code, as well as notice that it was authorized equipment for Peter to have. 

Peter gives the secretary a little wave and wonders what she thinks of him. If she also thinks it’s impossible that he got into a place like this. Or if she ever thinks about it at all. Maybe one of the parts about working at Stark Industries was just accepting things as they are. Either way, he scurried into the elevator and slipped his badge into another key card reader, there, before pressing one of the three unmarked buttons sitting higher than the ones labeled for the different floors. Mr. Stark’s lab was his designated location, but he knows that one of the other three is for Mr. Stark’s private living suite and the other one is compound away from the compound, where the visiting Avengers would lounge, train, and squabble with each other. 

Peter’s never been to Mr. Stark’s “house” of sorts. And he’s never been on the floor for the Avengers by himself, though that’s his fondest dream. He wants to explore it, more than anything, rather than seeing it during quick visits, in and out of the suit. Peter’s almost sure that Mr. Stark would let him if he asked… but, he still isn’t sure that he’s earned it and he’s left chewing on his bottom lip as the elevator starts to carry him to Mr. Stark’s lab, thinking about how great it would be to belong there. 

The elevator doors open smoothly to Mr. Stark’s lab… where he’s already there, bent over something on the table. Peter starts to hurry, dropping his backpack so that he can start helping him out, but -

“Lab safety, Underoos. Does that mean anything to you? No running.” 

Peter scowls as he slows down. “I wasn’t running. I was walking with purpose.” 

“Yeah? Well, you should have been running. Your late and my time is precious.” 

Peter stops walking completely, freezing mid-step and looking awkwardly over at Mr. Stark, waiting to see if that was a lecture, a reminder, or a dismissal. He was late, that’s true. And if he’d hurried from the school instead of moping over the field trip, maybe… 

“Hey.” 

Tony finally looks up and catches sight of the look on Peter’s face, his own lips quirked with bemusement. 

“I was just kidding, Peter. What, old men can’t make jokes sometimes? Quit looking like I stole your lunch money, or FRIDAY is going to sicc Pepper on me.” 

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” Peter says, voice cracking a little as he tries to reassure both FRIDAY and Mr. Stark, head bobbing in earnest. “I’m okay.” 

“The puppy dog eyes beg to differ, but I didn’t get my doctorate in psychology. Should have, though, might have saved me a lot of soul-searching… hey, come here. I want to show you what I’ve been working on. You can help me test it out.” 

Peter does trip over himself to scramble to the work bench, coming up next to Mr. Stark and looking down onto the table… only, he doesn’t see anything in front of him and he turns to look at his mentor with an understandably confused look on his face, waiting to see if it’s another joke. But, Mr. Stark doesn’t point to the table. Instead, he holds out his hand and shows Peter… a spider. 

A black widow, to be precise. Peter recognizes the red hourglass shaped mark on its abdomen. And Peter, whose last interaction with a Spider included getting bitten and getting strange abilities, flinches back. 

“Easy…” Mr. Stark says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. “Looks realistic, huh? This is what I’ve been working on for Nat. Well, what you’ve been helping me work on for Nat. All that work you did on creating a microphone that’s half a millimeter long but can still pick up conversations within ten yards? That went into this little beauty. Along with a honing device and a more literal take on “Widow’s bite”. It’s too small for a big electrical shock, not without frying itself in the process, so its fangs administer a toxin designed to knock the bad guys out. Probably less painful than Nat would. Best part?” 

Mr. Stark sets the spider down onto the bench, now, and reaches over to grab a wrench. He winks at Peter… and then sends it down, onto the spider. 

When he lifts the wrench, the spider has flipped over with legs curled in on itself. A few seconds later, it sits back up.

“It’s uncrushable. And programmed to bite whoever tries to grab it after trying to step on it.” 

“Mr. Stark. I am _shook._ ” Peter says, cautiously prodding the little spider with his index finger. He can’t believe that he had a part in creating it. A small part, but a part nonetheless. “This is so cool. What’s it going to be used for?” 

“Gathering intel. I hope. Or, maybe she’ll just want to spy on her neighbors. Either way. As good as she is, there are places she can’t get into. Unlike SPI-DER.” 

“Spider?” Peter asks, eyebrows raised. That’s not his most creative acronym, ever. 

But Mr. Stark is unashamed of the obvious name. “System for Portable Information, Data Extraction and Retrieval. Come on, kid, I was up all night trying to make that work. Anyway, this’ll keep her out of tight situations. Hopefully. She’s coming by on Friday -” 

“Yes, Boss?” 

“Not you, FRIDAY.” Tony says, with a half-glare up at the ceiling where the voice came from. And Peter stifled a laugh, knowing that FRI is intelligent enough to know the difference between Mr. Stark talking to the AI and Mr. Stark naming a day in the week. “- to pick it up.” 

“This Friday?” Peter asks, eyes bright with excitement. “Mr. Stark, can I come see her? I could help you show her how it works! And I’ll be here anyway, since -” 

\- Since that’s the day of his field trip. 

Peter stops talking abruptly, realizing that he’d almost outed himself. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure how he planned to get past Mr. Stark the day of the field trip, anyway, just carrying the idea that he’d be too busy in one of his labs to realize that Peter was around… but now, realizing that Nat would be in the building, too, his chances suddenly seemed less good. 

And Mr. Stark hadn’t been doing his half-listening thing that he did when he was working, discarding whatever information Peter offered that seemed trivial. Which was most information, really. No this time, he was doing his full-listening and seemed very interested in the fact that Peter had stopped talking. But he looks up, instead of at Peter. 

“Hey, FRIDAY?” 

“Yes, Boss?” 

“Is Peter scheduled to be in the lab with me this weekend? If so, set a reminder, because I don’t remember -” 

“Peter Parker is not scheduled to be in the lab with you this weekend,” The AI interrupted, smoothly. “He is, however, on the list of registered students at **Midtown School of Science and Technology** and will be attending a tour of Stark Towers with them, from mid-morning to late afternoon.” 

Peter could have curled up into himself like SPI-DER had, just then. 

“You have a field trip coming here and you didn’t tell me? I’m hurt, kid.” Mr. Stark said, pressing his hand to his chest and faking a mortally wounded look.

“Well, I only just found out today!” Peter said, weakly. “It just hadn’t come up yet.” 

“Hey, you got one of those permission slip things? I remember those from high-school. Kind of. Hey, let me sign it. I’ve always wanted to do that. Sign something incredibly unimportant and make it important by virtue of it having been seen by me. Is it in your bag? Come on, let’s -” 

“Mr. Stark, I don’t think that’s a very good idea!” Peter said. Maybe a little too sharply, because the smile on Tony’s face faded a little.

“What, you don’t want my signature? Do you have any idea how much that goes for on Ebay?” 

“It’s not that! It’s just…” 

Peter slumped down onto the bench then, holding his head in his hands and sighing. He’d been so elated over the discovery of SPI-DER, that he’d completely forgotten how awful the end of his day had been. He doesn’t want to burden Mr. Stark with his problems, especially since they’re so inconsequential, but… he also wants to tell someone. 

“...No one really believes me about my internship. And, I guess that’s kinda okay because it’s not a really-real internship, anyway. I know I’m just here because I’m Spider-Man, and that’s cool. But I am here! And I even filed that paperwork with the school, the stuff that Ms. Potts gave me? But today my favourite teacher had me stay after class and told me that I’m not allowed to lie about it anymore. That there’s no way I could have this internship and that everyone thinks I’m lying. That I almost got in trouble for filing fake paperwork and the only reason the school is letting me pretend is because they know my Uncle died.” 

Peter swallows hard against the lump that forms in his throat when he thinks about Uncle Ben. 

“I didn’t expect people like Flash to believe me. And I know I can’t explain the whole Spider-Man thing to them. But it feels awful having people think that I’m lying. Because if it was someone like Flash who was saying the he interned here, no one would call him a liar. Everyone thinks it’s impossible for me because I’m the poor orphan. It sucks.” 

Mr. Stark is quiet for so long that Peter thinks he might’ve just put him to sleep with how lame his sob story from school was. And he jerks his head upright, about to apologize for wasting his time, but Mr. Stark raises a finger to silence him and then sits for a minute, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Hm,” He says, finally. “You know, I’m not great with this mushy stuff. I think the nicest thing my father ever said to me was that I might not be as much of a fuc - screw up as he thought. But, listen. Here’s the thing. I’m just gonna say something truthful and if it sounds mushy, that’s by accident and you shouldn’t repeat it to any other living person. Ever. Okay?”

“Um, okay.” 

“Good. Underoos, you are here because you’re Spider-Man. That’s true. I would have never noticed you without the cute little pajamas and super slinging web action. And it sounds harsh, but that’s life. Success is about the connections you make. You think I would be as successful as I am if my father hadn’t paved the way? I was born with every opportunity afforded to me. You weren’t. Spider-Man was your first opportunity. You got given abilities that could have made or broke you. And you chose to use them for good. That’s how I noticed you, kid. And that was your ticket in. Staying in, though? That was all you. Peter Parker.” 

Mr. Stark screws up his face, seemingly lost in thought again. 

“I don’t know how you don’t consider this an internship, either. You think I let just anyone into my labs? Not even Rogers can get in here. Spider-Man isn’t what got you through that door, it was your ingenuity. That web formula of yours? I wouldn’t have thought of something like that. That’s why you get to hang out in my lab with me and get to help with things like SPI-DER. People are going to keep underestimating you. Hell, I do it. All the time, I look at you and I go… really? That kid? But, yeah. It’s you. You fall down and you get back up and you do that on your own.”

Peter thinks that his eyes might be watering. That, or it just got really blurry in here all of a sudden. He sniffles and tucks his face into his shirt to discreetly wipe at his nose. 

“As for that school of yours… any issues they have with the legality of your paperwork can be taken up with the team of lawyers here at Stark Industries. And I’ve heard that the Stark Industries CEO is a force to be reckoned with.” 

Peter looks up again and Mr. Stark winks at him, awkwardly leaning in to give Peter a side-hug. 

“Don’t get snot on my shirt kid.” 

***

An hour later, after some more tinkering in the lab and some voracious consumption of three pizzas (mostly thanks to Peter), Mr. Stark does sign his permission slip. With a flourish… and enough room for Aunt May to add hers, just in case. 

And when Peter leaps out the window, suit on, he feels a lot less like plummeting down and a lot more like flying, leaping from building to building to get back to Queens and listening to Karen’s soothing voice read him the messages he got while he was working.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh boy, it's been a while since I came back to this!!! I'm sorry for the long hiatus. I'm an author in real life, so sometimes I don't have it in me to get words on the page for fun. But, with the state of the world and me reaching my 10th consecutive day of being sick, I thought...what better distraction than some adorable Peter Parker stuff??? 
> 
> This is technically filler, except not? It's short and sweet, but I just couldn't go through this story without an Aunt May appearance. I'll try to do more regular updates now that I am at home for an indefinite amount of time. 
> 
> As always, your support means the world to me! I hope that you can stick with this story even if I'm flighty.

The thing about flying is that you eventually have to land. 

And the thing about Peter Parker Bad Luck is that every landing is a crash landing. 

And the thing about crash landing is that crash landing hurts. In a metaphorical sense, sure, but especially when it’s literal. Like, when he trips over his own two feet as he tries to climb in through the window, lands on the computer chair that he forgot to push back in, slides across his bedroom floor, and is dumped out of the chair and into a crumpled heap at Aunt May’s feet. 

“Owww…” Peter groans, squinting up at May through his suit. “Oh! What are you - uh, I thought you’d be asleep. I’m not late! I didn’t break curfew. I - what did I…?”

“Okay, guilty conscience. Slow your roll.” 

May looks bemused as she leans down to help him up to his feet, eyes a little wide as she takes in the sight of him in his suit. As well as she’d managed to adjust to the fact that Peter was Spider-Man and that he wouldn’t stop doing his superhero stuff no matter how much she asked, begged, or threatened to ground him until the end of time, she still got a funny look in her eye when Peter had it on and he scrambles to push the button on his watch and let the tech disappear back into its place…

Leaving him without pants. How’s that for thinking fast?

“Gah!” Peter’s voice cracks with embarrassment as he scrambles to his dresser. “May, close your eyes! Turn around! Close your eyes and turn around!” 

He assumes that she’s complying because he’s too embarrassed to turn around and look to make sure, pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms and jumping into them. He pulls them up so high that it would make Steve Urkle jealous and then turns around, clearing his throat so that his voice doesn’t crack again. 

“Okay, I’m decent.” 

“Uh-huh.” May turns around and sits back down on his bed, patting the empty space next to her, indicating that he should join her. And he does, hesitantly. “I think that trouble is, actually, the right word for what you are in. Mostly because trouble was the word that your teacher used six separate times in his email to me about your lying in his class. And beneath that was a really condescending paragraph calling my efficiency as a guardian into question along with the contact information for a child psychologist.” 

A chill runs through Peter’s body, every hair standing on end and a queasy feeling twisting his guts into a knot. The email! He’d completely forgotten about the email! He was going to ask Mr. Stark if there was anyway that Friday could hack Aunt May’s computer and delete it before she could see it… but then, pizza took priority. 

“I…” 

Peter swallows hard and bows his head, his throat suddenly too tight for words. His distress must read loud and clear on his face, too, because Aunt May wraps her arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. 

“Oh, honey…” She sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me that this was going on? I would have come to your school if I’d known. You know, vouched for it. Maybe dropped a few F-bombs at that teacher of yours with the condescending typing voice... but I thought everything was fine? We filled out all that paperwork, and they’ve been letting you leave early… Peter, they’ve been letting you leave early, right? You haven’t been lying about that?” 

“No!” Peter says, shaking his head earnestly. “They have been. I, I didn’t know they didn’t believe me either. Some of the kids in my class say stuff, but my teachers never did until today. Mr. Harrington said that, that the only reason I wasn’t in trouble was because of the…” 

“Sympathy points,” May guesses, her voice soft. “Yeah, I still get those at work believe it or not.” 

They sit in silence for a moment, the air suddenly sticky with tension: the unspoken subject of Uncle Ben threatening to grab and trap them into emotions that neither one of them wanted to resurface. Peter grapples with a subject change and lands on nothing so, luckily, May retakes control. 

“Well, since you didn’t know this was an on-going debate among your teachers, that takes all of the steam out of the lecture that I had planned for you, so I guess we can just skip to the part where I ask what we should be doing about this. Do I come to school? Maybe pitch hands, as you kids say? I could throw a fit like they do on TV. Do a lot of yelling, play up the drama?” 

“Throw,” Peter says, automatically. “It’s throw hands. And no drama necessary! I talked to Mr. Stark today and everything’s gonna be fine. He said that if the principal tries to, you know, punish me for telling the truth that the legal team at Stark Industries will do law stuff on my behalf.” 

“Law stuff?” May repeats with a wry grin. “Well, if you’re sure that Mr. Stark can handle it… but don’t count out the drama, yet, because I think I could really sell it with some anguished wailing about how distraught I am that my darling, sweet nephew would be accused of such a heinous act as lying. See how I’m clenching my fist?” 

She holds her closed fist close to her heart, expression serious and Peter grins in spite of himself. 

“This is how I would do it. Except, I’d be on the ground. Wailing. In anguish. And I’d do that all for you.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“Good. Well, now that we got to skip the serious talk and dive right into the funny, why don’t you get out that permission slip for me?” 

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” 

Peter grabs his backpack where it had been slammed down as a casualty of his graceless entrance into his bedroom and pulls out the slightly wrinkled form with Tony Stark’s name scrawled in large, looping letters. May raises her eyebrows at that and takes the offered pen, holding the paper against the wall so that she can scribble her name out in the smidge of space that had been left for her. 

“If I get a phone call about that…” 

“Well, Mr. Stark is one of my emergency numbers. He might get the call, instead.” 

“Did I agree to that?” 

“Uh-huh. We talked about it after your ten hour shift.” 

“...I see. Taking advantage of my exhaustion. Sneaky.” She hands him his permission slip back and Peter slips it into his bag, watching as she stands and stretches. “Well, I think this was one of our more fun lectures. There’s leftover takeout in the fridge if you’re still hungry. But I’ve got to hit the hay. I have an early shift which means you are in charge of waking yourself up for school. Please don’t be late. If I have to get another email from that guy, it will be my villain origin story and I’m not ready to take you on in battle.” 

She winks at him and then leans down over him to kiss the top of his head. 

“Seriously, don’t stay up too late. I larb you, Peter Parker.” 

The lump in Peter’s throat isn’t the same lump of shame or embarrassment that he’d had before. It’s a good, overwhelming feeling… and he thinks that he doesn’t appreciate just how lucky he is to have Aunt May as often as he should. 

“I larb you too, Aunt May.” 

“Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow after school.” 

She closes the door behind her and Peter flops down against his bed, staring up at the ceiling and exhaling sharply. 

He has the permission slip. 

Mr. Stark knows that he’s going to be there, on tour, on Friday. 

Aunt May knows, too. 

That’s three things he wasn’t expecting to have accomplished by tonight. He’d been anticipating a knot of anxiety in his stomach for keeping a secret and lying by omission… not a pang of fear of what would happen tomorrow when he turned in his permission slip with Tony Stark’s name on it. 

His life is so weird. 

That takeout in the fridge is calling his name, but exhaustion is calling a little louder and he finds himself dozing off without even wriggling under his covers, falling into a dream about having to a fight a 50-foot tall permission slip that shouts at him in Mr. Harrington’s voice, telling him over and over again that he’s jeopardizing his future. 


	4. Chapter 4

_Peter Parker, the most responsible kid in all of Queens, got up early. He made himself a nutritional and delicious breakfast of homemade pancakes with fresh strawberries and a tall glass of orange juice before taking a quick shower, brushing his teeth, combing his hair, and putting on his nicest outfit._

_He breezed out the door and waited fifteen minutes for the bus, before arriving to school and heading directly to Mr. Harrington’s classroom where he told his teacher, politely, that he had his permission slip filled out AND that if he or the principal had any questions about the validity of his internship, they could reach out to Stark Industries and speak with their legal team._

_And then,_ **_victorious_ ** _, he strolled out of the classroom and into the hall where his classmates greeted him with cheers, confetti, and an expertly choreographed dance to a school wide cover of “Dancing Queen” and no one ever made fun of him again and -_

Meanwhile, in this universe? Peter Parker, the most luck challenged kid in all of Queens, fell asleep before he could set his alarm and woke up forty-five minutes late dazed, disoriented, and in MAJOR trouble. 

Dreams of a healthy breakfast become the reality of a granola bar eaten in three bites and chased down with a glass of milk that he has to chug in the bathroom while stripping out of his clothes. He refills the cup with mouthwash and then dives into the shower to hurriedly scrub off the post-patrol funk that he hadn’t bothered with last night, alternating between making mad grabs for the shampoo and pouring mouthwash into his mouth and, somehow, his eyes. 

He scrubs, gargles, shouts when he almost falls, chokes on the mouthwash, spits it out, slides in the pool of minty freshness, manages to rinse off, and jumps too high out of the shower, sticking to the ceiling with one hand that thinks it’s saving his life given all the duress that he’s currently under. 

He doesn’t have a prayer of catching the bus by the time that he actually makes it out of the house. And no amount of spider stamina is going to save him now because, as fast as he can run, time is not slowing down and he only just makes it into his seat for first period when the late bell rings. 

No victorious music.

No flash mob choreographed to ABBA. 

Just him, panting with exertion, and minty fresh stinging lingering in his mouth and in his eyes. He wheezes and blinks hard, drawing the attention of Michelle… who slowly lifts up her notebook and shows the sketched outline of him. 

He gives her a thumbs up and then promptly bonks his head down against his desk, wondering where he can get a white flag to wave at Lady Luck. Whatever her problem is with him… he’s officially surrendering. 

***

His surrender goes unnoted. 

Three pop quizzes, the pacer test in gym, and Flash getting his entire lunch table to chant “Penis Parker” is enough proof of that. He’s not just rattled when he slinks into Mr. Harrington’s class, head down and shoulders slumped as he tries to fold into a smaller version of himself. He’s totally defeated. Pummeled down, cartoon birds flying around his head, totally KO’d. 

He drops down into his desk in the front row and only manages the faintest of smiles when Ned walks past, giving him two thumbs up and mouthing what Peter thinks is, “You’ve totally got this!” but might actually be “The cheese rides at midnight” since he doesn’t know how to read lips. 

“Hey, guys. How are you doing today?” Mr. Harrington asks as he rises from his desk to stand in front of the class. There’s a smattering of half-hearted replies, murmurs of being fine, good, and okay. Peter doesn’t say anything, just stares at the graffiti on his desk and hopes beyond hope that they’re going to jump right into the lesson. “Good, good. We have something unique planned for today. But before we jump into that, if you have a filled out permission slip, please place it on the edge of your desk. I’ll come through and collect and then we can get started. Okay?” 

Just like that, the classroom becomes a riot of bags being unzipped, papers being shuffled, and side-conversations resuming in full. And Peter, who’s already mentally bruised, cringes from all of the noise as he pulls his slip out of his bag and places it on his desk. Face down. Which, in his opinion, is totally inconspicuous. No need to call attention to it, Mr. Harrington. Just pick it up, shuffle it into the pile, and move on. Please don’t flip it over, please don’t flip it over, please don’t -

Mr. Harrington picks the slip off of his desk, flips it over, and starts to move to grab Michelle’s...and then stops, walking backwards until he’s standing in front of Peter’s desk, again. 

And Peter wonders why he bothers hoping for things as Mr. Harrington lowers the sheet back against his desk and points to Mr. Stark’s signature. He swallows against the lump forming in his throat before he looks up, trying to keep his expression composed. 

“...Is something wrong, Mr. Harrington?” Peter asks, softly, trying not to look guilty. He has nothing to be guilty about, why is he feeling guilty at all?! 

“Mr. Parker, I’d like you to step out into the hall. I will join you out there momentarily.”

He points sharply to the door. Peter jumps up as though he’d received an electric shock and grabs his bag, hurrying out into the hall. His cheeks turn red as he goes, listening to the stunned silence of his classmates. He bursts through the door and staggers to stand against the wall, breathing heavily. 

Okay. 

Okay.

Okay! 

This doesn’t have to be bad. Maybe Mr. Harrington is going to apologize for what happened yesterday. Maybe he’s like… like an avid collector of things that Tony has signed and knows what an authentic signature looks like. And, maybe he’s just too embarrassed to admit in front of the whole class that he was wrong? 

Wishful thinking. Why is he bothering with wishful thinking? Wishful thinking is the exact same thing as hoping and hoping, so far, has gotten him nothing but disappointment. 

He chews on his bottom lip and waits, every second dragging by. 

And then, finally, Mr. Harrington steps out of the classroom and into the hall with Peter’s permission slip in hand. He holds it up and, with his free hand, points to Mr. Stark’s dark, looping signature. 

“I sincerely hope that this is a joke, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Harrington says, slowly. “A very distasteful, immature joke considering our conversation yesterday about the seriousness of forgery. Because if you mean to look me in the eye and tell me that Tony Stark actually signed this, then I won’t be there to defend these actions anymore. Do you understand me? These are your two options. You can either enter that classroom and apologize to your peers for wasting my time and their time with this foolish behaviour, own up to your lies, and resume class as normal or you can continue on this path to self-destruction as it leads you directly to the Principal's office.” 

Peter can feel the blood draining out of his face and his pulse thundering in his ears. Shame washes through his first, and panic at the thought of being sent to the Principal’s office… but then, seconds later, righteous fury rings through. He’s NOT lying. Mr. Stark signed this, with his own hand. Mr. Stark told him, plainly, that he IS an intern in his own way. And, sure, he’s trying to keep the whole Spider Man and Peter Parker thing separate, but that’s not the secret or the lie that’s being addressed now. 

The unfairness of it all, the weight of his bad day, and the resentment that coats the back of his throat when Mr. Harrington talks down to him all collide in the pit of his stomach and he straightens his shoulders and looks him right in the eye. 

“Mr. Harrington, if you or the Principal have doubts about the validity of my internship, Mr. Stark told me that you could contact Stark Industries and speak directly with their legal team about why you’re harassing me when I’ve filled out all the relevant paperwork that needed to be admitted to the school.” 

Mr. Harrington’s eyes bug out of his head, a little, before narrowing. And he takes a long, deep breath before pointing in the direction opposite of the hall. 

“Principal’s office. Now. I’ll be setting your classmates up with the necessary paperwork for them to enter Stark Industries while you, Mr. Parker, can consider yourself banned from the trip in addition to whatever punishment you’ll be facing for forgery and lying. I’m sorry, Peter, but I can’t keep allowing these delusions that you’ve fixated on. You need to understand that there are consequences for your actions. Now go.” 

Peter’s eyes smart with tears but he keeps his jaw clenched and turns on his heel, marching stiffly in the direction of the Principal’s office. 

And he thinks he can hear Lady Luck laughing at him in the echo of Mr. Harrington’s decision to give up on him. 

***

The school secretary doesn’t look surprised to see him when he steps into the office. She doesn’t even stop typing at her computer when she looks over at him and Peter realizes, after a moment, that the teachers must talk to each other. That they probably gossip about students the same way that students gossip about teachers and about each other. He clenches his jaw a little tighter as she nods her head in the direction of the Principal’s office. 

“Go right in, Mr. Parker.” 

He offers her a feeble wave that she doesn’t return before trudging into Principal Morita’s office. The door closes behind him with a thud and Morita looks up, eyes brightening as understanding dawns in his expression. 

“Ah, Mr. Parker,” He says as he shuffles the papers on his desk. “And here I was hoping that you’d prove Mr. Harrington right…” 

Peter drops his bag next to the chair in front of Morita’s desk and sits, trying to keep calm. 

“So, what was it? Boasting about the internship? Trying to argue with him about it?” 

“No, sir.” Peter says, stiffly. “Mr. Stark signed my permission slip to Stark Industries, alongside my Aunt May’s signature, and Mr. Harrington thinks that I forged it.” 

“Correction. Mr. Harrington knows that you forged it. Just like we knew that you forged his signature on the internship papers and on your emergency contact slip… and, both times, he vouched for your usual honesty and integrity. We took the hard times that you were going through into account, we let it slide… but three strikes, Mr. Parker, and you’re out. I’m sure you’re familiar with that concept?” 

“But -” 

“Mr. Parker, unless you’re about to own up to your poor decisions and apologize, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve never really had to punish a student for forgery and lies quite at this level… but I’m thinking two weeks of in-school-suspension, ineligibility for all field trips for the remainder of the school year, and end to your early release, and hand written notes of apology to each and every one of your classmates and teachers for your lies should be a sufficient enough to get through to you. I’ll be calling your Aunt May and -” 

“Peter.” Karen’s voice suddenly sounds off in his ear from the indetectable earbud that he wears. “Your heart rate has elevated to concerning levels. I am activating “Baby Monitor” protocol and alerting Mr. Stark of your location and distress.” 

“Wait, no!” Peter exclaims, without thinking, and interrupts Principal Morita’s speech. 

“I’m sorry if you think that’s a little harsh, Mr. Parker, but this is your third offense. Actions do have consequences. As sorry as we all are for your recent loss and as much as we want to help, we can’t let you continue acting this way. And, if you TRULY believe that you have been granted this fictitious internship, then we can provide your aunt with resources for you to talk to someone, but you’re a very bright boy and I’m sure that you…” 

He trails off as the intercom on his desk crackles to life, the secretary’s voice squawking through. 

“Principal Morita? There’s a...Mr. Stark on the line for you.” 

Morita blinked at his intercom, fumbling to press the button. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“A man claiming to be Tony Stark of Stark Industries is on the line, asking for the principal.” 

“I…”

The shock on Peter’s face is completely genuine when Morita shoots him a half-questioning and half-accusing glance before he reaches for his phone and picks it up. 

“This is Principal Morita.” 

There’s a minute and a half of silence. Peter knows because he counts every second as they pass, holding his breath. Mr. Stark called the school? 

“...Uh-huh. And tell me, which of Mr. Parker’s friends is this? Hm?” Morita asks, after that minute and a half ticks by. “Let me tell you, lying for a friend will only land you in as much hot water as they are in and you are welcome to spend the next two weeks in ISS with him by owning up to this little ploy and coming down to my office OR I can double his sentence. Come on, speak up. Who is this, really?” 

“That would be me. Tony. Tony Stark.” Mr. Stark calls as the door to Principal’s office swings open and he comes striding in, still holding his cell phone up to his ear as he talks. “Yes, THAT Tony Stark. Unless you think that uh, this is one of Peter’s friends in a really elaborate costume?” 

“I...I uh… I….” 

It sounds like Morita is malfunctioning, his eyes growing wide and his gaze darting between Tony and Peter, mouth agape as he babbles. Then it seems to click for him and he jumps to his feet, looking like he might _bow_ to Tony. 

“Mr. Stark!” He says, breathlessly. “It’s really… it’s you.” 

“Hold the applause,” Mr. Stark says, irritably, glancing down at Peter who meets his gaze with shock and what he hopes is appreciation and not just more shock. “Yes, it’s me. Glad we got that sorted. See, after my intern told me that his teachers and school administration were questioning the validity of his internship with me I thought, what the hell? Why don’t I take a break from my multi-billion dollar company to come down to this inconsequential little high-school and tell these people what they should have already gathered from the paperwork I filled out? It just sounded like a great use of my time. And, hey, look at that. You already have him detained. Looks like I got here just in time.” 

“I...I um…” 

Mr. Stark’s gaze flicks to Peter’s face. “Hey, kid? Does he speak in full words?” 

“I um,” Peter clears his throat. “I think he’s just surprised, Mr. Stark.” 

“Well, can you think of a way to reboot him? I have places to be.” 

It’s...strange, seeing Mr. Stark in full Tony Stark mode. Peter never realized how much of him that he got to see unfiltered, in the lab. The man behind the mask was so impressive that Peter forgot that the mask, itself, was even more so. 

“Well, Mr. Stark… Principal Morita was in the middle of telling me what my punishment is going to be for lying about my internship and forging your signature. But, since you’re here, I guess the conversation is kinda… over?” 

“Would you look at that? See what a quality intern he is? He did all my prep work for me without even knowing that I was coming. Now that’s drive. Okay, you. Principal man. Stop the incoherent babbling, do me a favour, and call in that teacher. Mr. Harris? Mr. Hardass? Mr. -” 

“Harrington,” Peter supplied, quickly, before Mr. Stark could get any more creative with the insults. 

“Right. Him. Get him in here so that I only have to clear this up once.” 

“Right away, sir.” Morita said, hitting the button on the school’s intercom and speaking quickly. “Mr. Harrington, to my office. Mr. Harrington, immediately.” 

“Thank you. Now, can you make another chair appear? I think Parker’s had a difficult enough day without me kicking him out of his seat.” 

“Of course! Of course! Let me just… I’ll go find you one. Our most comfortable one! I’ll be right back.” 

Peter’s never seen his Principal sprint as quickly as he did then, bolting for the door and already shouting for his secretary to help him find a chair. The door shuts behind him with a solid thud and muffles the voices of star-struck hysteria, leaving Peter alone with Mr. Stark… who immediately turns to look at him. 

“Hey, kid. Are you okay? Karen sent a diagnostic report of your heart rate -- I thought you were in a hold up, not just sitting in a Principal’s office. We gotta get you some Xanax, kid. Remind me to book you with my psychiatrist. Believe me, I know a thing or two about anxiety and I…” 

He trails off and clears his throat. 

“Anyway, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I mean… yeah. I’m okay.” Peter says, nodding. “They thought I forged your -” 

“Signature? Yeah, you said. Pep was planning on visiting, anyway, to clear things up. She’s uh… what is that word she uses? She’s -” 

“More diplomatic?” Peter suggests. 

“No, less of an asshole,” Tony says, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “But when Karen sent the diagnostic and then your location, I put two and two together and thought I might make more of an impression in the moment. And, hey, out of curiosity… what is the punishment for forging Tony Stark’s signature around here?” 

“Two weeks of in school suspension, ineligibility for all future field trips, handwritten notes to all of my classmates and teachers apologizing for my lies, and um, no more leaving early.” 

“That’s it?” Mr. Stark asks, looking unimpressed. And, at the look on Peter’s face, he starts to backtrack. “Well, I’m sure that feels like a lot when you’re a kid. I was thinking jail time. Of course, I’ve seen prisons nicer than this place, so… potato, potato.” 

He pronounces the word the same way both times and Peter almost starts laughing, but the door opens back up and Principal Morita and Mr. Harrington came shuffling in. They place a plush, spinning chair from the computer lab next to Peter’s chair… and, at Mr. Stark’s disgruntled look, Peter moves to it so he can have the sturdier, less spinny chair. 

“Mr. Stark. It’s...really you,” Mr. Harrington says, awestruck, as Tony takes a seat. 

“We already had this conversation. I don’t like moving backwards. Stark Industries is all about innovation for a reason.” Mr. Stark interrupted, pointing for both Principal Morita and Mr. Harrington to move behind the desk. Which they did, unquestioningly. “According to Mr. Parker, it was you and Principal Morita, here, that had issues with the validity of his internship, right? Well, let me clear this up once and for all with the hope that I will never have to come back here. Mr. Parker is my personal intern…. Well, that’s it. That’s the whole statement I had prepared. I trust you can take me at my word?” 

“Of course, of course,” Principal Morita said, taking a seat. Mr. Harrington moves to do the same… only there isn’t another chair and he hits the floor before sheepishly standing again. Everyone ignores that. “Now that you’re here and you… yes, we will of course… but, surely you can understand our skepticism? Stark Industries doesn’t accept high-schoolers as interns… or anyone under eighteen, surely, for liability reasons?” 

“Both true statements!” Tony says. “And both covered in the papers that I filled out, where I clearly stated that Mr. Parker is the only exception to the rule due to his advanced intelligence and the full cooperation of his legal guardian as well as my decision to take full responsibility for his well-being. If you'd pull the contract out, I can show you exactly where -” 

“We uh, we don’t have them on file. We...threw them out.” Principal Morita confesses, quietly. So quietly that Peter almost didn't hear him.

And the underlying air of amusement disappears from Mr. Stark’s posture completely. He straightens up in his seat and leans forward, his nanotech sunglasses creeping back away from his face so that they can see the full effect of his gaze. 

“You _what_?” He asks, quietly. “I’m sorry...instead of using the contact information that we had listed -- the highly sensitive contact information, beneath the non-disclosure agreement that you, presumably, signed -- to contact us and ask for validation of some kind. You...You _threw_ out the **very important** legal documents pertaining to one of your students with no proof of forgery? Just on an assumption?” 

“We… we shredded them…” Mr. Harrington offers, faintly. 

“...Alright. This might be above my head. You hear that, gentlemen? This is such a grievous error that there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m going to have to pass this along to my better half, Ms. Potts. She and our legal team should be able to decide if any action needs to be taken against the school at large and then, if assuming we are provided with proof that the documents were thoroughly destroyed and not putting me at any personal risk thus requiring us to sue the both of you into the ground, we can draft up a new pile of paperwork. For you to guard as though your very lives depend on it. Because they do. In the meantime, as one of Mr. Parker’s emergency contacts, I’ll be taking him out of school to… to, I don’t know. Get him some ice cream and show him a nice, long list of private, elite high-schools that I can get him into that will treat him with the respect that he deserves not only as a person, but as my intern.” 

Mr. Stark stands rigidly, vibrating with obvious anger. 

“The head of my legal team will be in touch with you soon, if not Ms. Potts herself. I trust you’ll make yourself available for her call and the subsequent inspection of -” 

“Um...Mr. Stark?” Peter interrupted, timidly, drawing his furious gaze onto himself and away from the cowering principal and teacher. 

“...Yes, Mr. Parker?” He asks, slowly, his gaze softening just a little. 

“What about the field trip?” 

“...What about it?” 

“It’s just…” Peter clears his throat and nervously laces his fingers together. “A lot of my classmates were really looking forward to a tour of Stark Industries. And it doesn’t seem fair to punish them for this. If… if they can provide proof that the paperwork was destroyed by Friday, can we still go?” 

Mr. Stark looks between Peter and them, his brow furrowing. 

“...No.” He decides, shaking his head. And Peter opens his mouth to protest, but Tony holds up a finger to silence him. “Not by Friday. They have until Thursday to provide proof AND to deliver handwritten apology letters to you, me, and our CEO for wasting our time like this. I trust you two can do that?” 

“Yes! Yes, absolutely we can. We…” 

“Good.” Tony interrupts. “Let’s go, Mr. Parker. I am so tired of being here. I don’t know how you do this for eight hours.” 

“Uh, Mr. Stark? You… you have to sign him out at the front desk…” 

Mr. Stark ignores that, steering Peter out of the office and then out of the building without giving a second glance at the awestruck secretary who watches them leave. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers as they stroll out into the bright sunlight. “That was… that was so… _awesome_.” 

“Don’t you dare thank me for that,” He growled, fixing Peter with a glare. “That wasn’t a favour to you, Pete. That was the bare minimum of what you were due. Don’t thank me for things that you deserve, alright?” 

“Got it, Mr. Stark.” 

“Good.” Tony relaxes some, then, clapping his hands together. “Happy should be here by now. I came in the suit, but it’ll have gone home by now… how about that ice cream I promised?” 

“Wow, really? I didn’t think you were… I mean, you don’t have to...thank - thank you, Mr -” 

“Ah-ah! You finish that sentence, and I’m barring you from the toppings bar. What did I just get finished telling you about thanking me for things you deserve? Now, come on. I'm not allowed to get day drunk anymore so let's go stress eat." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this??? Two uploads in one day??? Well, actually, it's now one in the morning where I live and so it's technically the next day. 
> 
> Full disclosure, I finished this chapter, was planning on posting it tomorrow, but I can't guarantee that I'll be in good enough health to do so and since you guys are SO lovely, I decided to give you this. 
> 
> The next update will begin the field trip. Finally. I AM omitting the ice cream scene but, if people are interested, I might make that a one-shot. 
> 
> And, as always, your comments and reviews make my life a little brighter. I do my best to respond to everyone, but there's going to be some lag with my health being what it is. Just know that I read each and every one, even if I don't respond directly.


	5. Chapter 5

If Peter’s life was like a movie, this is where the montage would happen. 

A series of crossfades would tell the story of the next two days, skipping over the boring stuff like sitting through his math class and breezing past the embarrassing stuff like Flash “accidentally” spilling his tray of mashed potatoes and turkey gravy into his lap. There’d be a pop song that was popular in the early 2000s, something that everyone nods their head along to, and maybe a fast-forward of Mr. Harrington and Principal Morita’s desperate attempts to find a way to prove that they had destroyed the original set of internship papers that they’d be given, perhaps in increasingly comical ways, until they finally found the proof they needed and proudly presented the evidence to Mr. Stark, ending the montage….

But, this is real life. 

And in real life, Peter has to actually live through the 48-hours standing between him and knowing for sure whether or not Mr. Stark was _actually_ going to sue his teachers. He also has to experience math class and frantically scrub gravy from the crotch of his jeans thanks to Flash, without so much as a Black Eyed Peas song to uplift his spirits about it. No cool camera work or editing. Just 172,800 seconds of holding his breath while he hopes, prays, and _waits_ to find out if they’re actually going to get their field trip. 

Fortunately for everyone involved, it’s not Peter’s luck that they had to rely on, in the end. 

A slightly grainy tape from the office where they shredded the packet was all the proof that Stark Industries needed to be sure that the documents hadn’t been misplaced or sold and that means field trip back on. 

Peter’s a hero, once again. 

But there’s not a single classmate of his, besides Ned, who knows it. 

And that’s the real kicker to end the montage on. 

***

Friday dawns clear and cold, with a pale sun sitting indifferently on the horizon. Looking down over Peter like a single, judgemental eye, tracking his process as he _runs_ to school. 

Because he’s late. 

Again. 

He twists, turns, dives, bobs, and weaves his way through the crowds on the sidewalks in Queens and stumbles up the stairs into the bus in record time, winded but _there_ and offering a weak wave to first the bus driver and then to Mr. Harrington, who’s sitting in the first seat behind the driver. 

Mr. Harrington waves back, his expression contrite, and Peter sighs. 

He’s been getting those looks since Tuesday, now. Every time that he makes eye contact with a teacher, they send him silent signals about how sorry they are for not believing him. Throwing extra points onto his assignments for “going above and beyond” what the expectation was, picking him for the interesting tasks like delivering notes to the office - okay, so maybe that doesn’t _sound_ interesting, but any chance to get out of class and stretch your legs is highly coveted - or being part of the demonstration of something cool. 

It’s the kind of thing that Mr. Stark would say he should enjoy, because he deserves it… but it just puts a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Watching his teachers bend over backwards to keep him happy just because he knows **the** Tony Stark is kind of embarrassing. He never wanted them to start treating him like he was special. Not for being a poor, orphaned kid and not for being the poor, orphaned kid that Mr. Stark took an interest in. 

But as much as he’s uncomfortable with it? There’s someone else on the bus who hates it even more than he does. 

It’s that tingling, “ _danger_ ” feeling that makes him jump, his body going into action before his brain can even catch up and he lands on the other side of the foot that Flash stuck out to trip him. He turns his head in time to see Flash’s expression sour, his dark eyes growing thunderous. And, not for the first time, Peter wishes that he’d just taken the first, impulsive way that Flash tried to humiliate him instead of accidentally making him work _harder_ for it. 

“Glad you could make it, Penis,” Flash hisses at him, under his breath, composing himself again. “Cool of you to sit on the bus with the rest of us instead of having Tony Stark pick you up in his private limo. Which he would, right? Since you’re his intern and all.” 

That was the other thing that was making his stomach turn. Mr. Harrington and Principal Morita had delivered their handwritten notes of apology and satisfied the new terms of the field trip… but they didn’t tell anyone else about it. Peter’s not sure if that was because students would panic or if it was because they didn’t want to admit to everyone the way that they had treated a student and let word get around that it was handled so poorly by the faculty, but he IS sure that his sudden rise in popularity with the teachers along with no tangible explanation for it has put Flash in an increasingly dark mood. 

Peter opens his mouth to retort, but there’s not a single comeback that comes to mind. All systems failed, and he’s about to take the easy route out and weakly insist that his internship is _real_ when someone pipes up from behind them and saves his metaphorical life.

“Sounds like a waste of resources to me,” Michelle drawls, sitting up into view from the seat behind Flash. “The bus was already going that way. Why would Peter elect to intensify the carbon footprint that we’re leaving on this slowly dying planet?” 

“Was I talking to you?” Flash asked, turning his head to glare at Michelle and giving Peter time to escape, scrambling down the dirty and narrow aisle of the bus and drop down in the vacant spot next to Ned who immediately pulled the headphones out of his ears and turned to face him excitedly.

“Peter!” He says, pulling him into a side hug. “I knew you’d make it. I mean, I wasn’t 100% sure that you wouldn’t miss the bus, but then Flash started saying that you were skipping because you’re too embarrassed to admit that your internship wasn’t real so I told him that if you _did_ miss the bus that Mr. Stark would send a limo for you like he does when you leave the school -” 

“It’s not a limo, it’s a town car -” Peter starts to interrupt, but he’s drowned out by Ned. 

“- and that you’d be there before us, probably. Aren’t you excited? Oh, hey! Check it out! I brought my Ironman poster. I know it’s not for sure that we’re going to see him but just in case. How cool would it be if he did sign it?” 

“Way cool,” Peter agrees with a faint smile. His fluster and frustration at Flash’s attitude starts to ebb away, beaten into submission by the waves of pure excitement that are rolling off of Ned right now. If there’s nothing else in the world that he can count on or trust, it’s that Ned can calm him down just by virtue of being himself. “You know, if he doesn’t meet us today, I can always bring your poster into the lab and have him sign it there. I know that’s not as cool as seeing him do it in person, but -” 

“You would?!” Ned practically bounces in his seat. “I wanted to ask but then I thought that would be rude because you were my friend before you were a Stark Intern and I didn’t want to start asking you to do me crazy favours like get my poster signed and tell me what brand of cologne he uses so that I can start smelling like a billionaire too. But since you’re offering all on your own -” 

“Hey, guys” Flash calls out again as the bus rumbles to life. “Put your orders in with Parker now. He’s going to go on a coffee run for us since, you know, he works there as an intern.” 

A few of Flash’s friends laugh loudly and meanly while some other people in his grade have the grace to giggle quietly or try to hide their grins behind their hands while Mr. Harrington sits up straight and twists to look at Flash. 

“That’s enough, Mr. Thompson.” 

The verbal shut down makes Flash turn red and scowl, whipping his head around to give Peter a withering look before he turns to his friends and starts to talk animatedly about the trip ahead. 

“...This is going to suck,” Peter declares, slumping down in his seat. 

Ned clumsily pats him on the arm. “At least you’ll get to hang out with Tony Stark after it sucks. Flash just gets to go home.” 

***

It’s _weird_ seeing the tower from this side of things, gives him a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach like miscalculating in the dark and missing a stair on the way down. Since Happy always drives him around to the back entrance, he’s never actually _seen_ the front doors this close. 

They’re teeming with life in a way that the other entrance never is. People in suits walk in and walk out, chatting animatedly with each other or jogging ahead of the crowd to hurriedly wave down a taxi. Peter feels both invisible and put on display, since the passing workers don’t so much as glance at him but every one of his classmates is looking at or near him, waiting for _something_. Maybe they want him to look like he’s the only one who knows exactly where he’s going or maybe they’re waiting for him to wave at a passing employee and greet them by name. 

But he doesn’t do any of those things. Just keeps his eyes forward on the building that they’re ushered inside and wonders if it would be better if he _had_ skipped this whole thing. 

The lobby here is huge and not much like the one that Peter’s used to. It has the same bullet proof windows, vaulted ceilings, and gleaming exterior with cameras pointing at them from every direction, sure, but it also has a wall lined with photos of Tony through the years, and framed newspaper articles about the avengers. There’s even a display model of the Ironman suit, tucked safely in a glass case. 

“Good morning, Midtown!” A sharply dressed woman in a grey pantsuit greets them warmly but professionally. “And welcome to Stark Industries! I’m Lisa and I’ll be your tour guide for today. We are thrilled to have you here and looking forward to giving you an inside look into what it is, exactly, that we do here. But, as you can probably imagine there are some things that we need to go over first before we can allow you any further.” 

There’s not so much as a titter from any of them. They all stand silently, in total awe of the fact that this is _actually_ happening. Even Flash, who’d taken to chanting “Penis” behind Peter, shuts up and listens with all his might. 

“I know that, as intelligent and capable students, you read through our packet of rules and guidelines that _must_ be followed to ensure the safety of you, your classmates, and the people who work here. But, just in case things are hazy in your mind, I’m going to give you a quick reminder. To start with, you absolutely _cannot_ leave the group for any reason. If you have to use the bathroom, please let me know and you will have to be escorted by an employee or by your teacher. This is a workplace first and foremost and we can’t have you wandering off and inhibiting our employees. Secondly, we will be taking you into the inner workings of this technological hub. You are going to see some pretty amazing things. Look all you want, but be aware that you are not allowed to touch or take photos, unless we say that you can. If you don’t hear me tell you yes? Then you should assume it’s a no. And if you think that you can’t handle the responsibility or not getting personalized with our machines, then you better keep your hands in your pockets. Finally, remember that you have all signed a nondisclosure agreement. Everything that you see and hear in the building today cannot be disclosed. And if you think that you’ll get away with it because you’re minors and contracts that you sign aren’t legally binding, here’s your reminder that your parents signed off on this, as well, and we can sue them into the ground which will likely have an effect on how you live your life.” 

It’s a threat. 

A cheerful, friendly threat, but a threat all the same and Peter sees some of his classmates trading uneasy looks. 

“Any questions about our rules and guidelines?” 

No one raises their hands and Lisa’s smile, somehow, becomes even brighter. 

“Great! Then let’s get started! These boxes here? They have passes that will allow you temporary access to all the rooms that we’ll be touring today. You must not lose these or misplace them because Mr. Stark has a policy against duplicates being made. As you can imagine, it’s too dangerous to leave a key to the castle lying around for just anyone to pick up. You are free to take these home as souvenirs but keep in mind that the chip inside that grants you access will deactivate as soon as you are ten feet away from the building and will not grant you reentry and, if inserted again, will send a red alert to our security team. I promise you don’t want that. Now, when I say your name, please come up and collect your badge.” 

The intensity of the lecture combined with the unwavering cheer in her voice and the smile on her face has a lot of his classmates rattled. He can see it in their faces as they stand tense and ready to hear their names. 

“Andrews, Melissa?” 

There’s a lot of students to get through and Peter finds himself growing more and more tense as Lisa makes her way through the list, handing out bandes with a pale blue lanyard on them to each student that eagerly bounds forward to collect them. 

He knew about the no duplicates rule. 

And he’d been expecting it. 

His badge is already around his neck, hidden by the oversized grey hoodie that he’d thrown on that morning. Its lanyard is red and gold, like all level 5s have, and he just KNOWS that’s going to raise some eyebrows. 

“Oberg, Michael?” 

“Pane, Kelly?” 

“Richardson, Matthew?” 

Flash’s hand goes up at the speed of sound, waving in the air to catch Lisa’s attention who looks up with surprise and points at him. “Go ahead?” 

“You missed one of my classmates!” Flash says, shooting Peter a triumphant look. “Peter Parker? He should have been called before Matt.” 

Lisa’s smile fades for the first time and she looks down at her clipboard, running her index finger against the paper and, clearly, doesn’t find the space where his name would be. 

“Mr. Parker?” She says, bringing Peter’s attention to her. “Do you have permission to be here on this trip?” 

“Yes,” Peter says. His voice cracks a little and he clears his throat. “But I have my own badge.” 

“Oh, you do? Give me just a second! Parker… Parker… there you are! My mistake, you’re in the system as an employee, not a visitor. Could you please have your badge out and visible?” 

Peter reaches into the neckline of his hoodie and pulls his badge out. It’s stark against his grey sweatshirt, obviously different than everyone else’s and Lisa, even from a distance, can tell. For her credit, she keeps her composure. 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Parker. And welcome to this side of the tower!” 

“Thanks,” He says, shyly, daring to sneak a peek at Flash who looks like he swallowed a grapefruit whole. Sour eyes and puffed out cheeks. “Glad to be here.” 

Lisa continues down the list. Most kids walk hurriedly to get their badge, marveling at it before they put it on. But Flash _struts_ to grab his, yanking it on like it’s the gold medal at the Olympics and Peter has to fight not to roll his eyes, grateful when they’re to the entrances to the building. There’s different ones with different keycard slots and Lisa takes her time to point each one out. 

“There are over 10,000 people here in the tower for one reason or another and, for ease of access and to combat traffic jams, we here at Stark Industries have several different entrances tailored to different types of keycards. You see, in addition to the colour coding that is applied to the badges for ease of recognition for our employees, the chips in each one are a little different. This entrance, right here, is for our visitors. Usually people taking tours like you or workers from other companies who are here to speak to Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts. The door to the right of you is for employees, while the door to the left is for food vendors and other service providers who bring outside supplies with them into the building. They use that door because they’re required to go through additional screening. Now, as I was saying about the chips inside your badges, each one is designated to open a specific entrance. Visitors can only go through this door, vendors can only use that one and employees that are level 4 and lower are designated to that door.” 

The pointing is hard to follow when Peter’s at the back, behind several taller people, but he thinks he’s keeping up with the gist of it, absorbing all the knowledge that he can because he’s not sure when he’ll be at this side of things. 

“The only people who have chips that allow them access through any door are employees that are level 5 and security personnel. Their badges are much different than everyone else’s, you see. They wear watches that automatically open doors so that they’re not slowed down by swiping a keycard. Now, if you’d get into a single file line we can get through the doors and onto the tour in -” 

Flash’s hand is raised again. Lisa's smile freezes on her face but she graciously calls on him. 

“What entrance does Tony Stark use?” 

Well, at least it’s not a question about _him._

“Oh, Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, and the avengers all use a private entrance in the back for enhanced security purposes. It can be a little difficult for them to show up here, where all the buzz happens. Even our employees get a little starstruck from time to time. Or should I say Starkstruck?” 

She giggles at her own joke and the class politely titters back in response. 

“Now, please. Single file line. No pushing, no shoving. Oh! Mr. Parker? If you’d please move to the employee entrance?” 

Oh no. 

Peter was really, really, REALLY hoping that she’d forget about him. But, as far as she’s aware, he’s only a lower level employee and has already decided that this door won’t open for him. He’s not sure what’s worse, honestly. Staying in this line and having the door open for him, anyway, even after Lisa made it clear that only upper level employees can do that? Or going to the entrance with _no_ line and having his arrival announced? 

“Mr. Parker?” Lisa presses. 

“Uh-oh, Penis…” Flash whispers to him. “Looks like that fake badge of yours is about to get you in trooooooouble. What are you gonna do when the door doesn’t open, huh?” 

“Peter?” Mr. Harrington calls. 

“Sorry!” Peter mumbles, taking a deep breath and stepping out of line to shuffle to the employee entrance. Everyone’s staring at him as he inserts his keycard into the slot and listens to the drone of machinery. 

The door swings open and Peter steps through, eyes half-closed and shoulders tense as Friday’s light and clear voice sounds off, loudly enough for /everyone/ to hear. 

“Peter Parker, level five. Welcome back, Peter. Mr. Stark has been notified of your arrival.” 

“...Thanks, Fri.” Peter calls, unwilling to slight the automated system that runs through the building, even for the sake of saving himself the embarrassment. Everyone’s staring at him anyway. Even Lisa, her mouth slightly agape. 

She’s the first to get ahold of herself, though, that smile returning to her face. 

“Well, now, you’ve seen how it’s done. Let’s get you guys through. Come on, come one. Single file line. No pushing, the tour won’t start without you, I promise.” 

They’ve been here five minutes and Peter’s already feeling faint with anxiety. This is going to be a _long_ day. 

***

Once everyone is on the other side of security, Lisa takes the lead at the front of the group and starts to walk them through the main halls of the tower. Ned stands close to Peter the whole time, his fingers clutched around Peter’s wrist so he can squeeze with excitement every time he hears something that fascinates him… which is happening a _lot_ so it’s a good thing that he heals fast or else he’d have finger shaped bruises. 

“I’m sure you’re all aware of some part of the history of this tower, but what kind of tour guide would I be if I didn’t go over it again?” Lisa says, walking with purpose. “Stark Towers is the product of our CEO’s brilliant mind and our owner’s eye for advancement. Virginia Potts, better known as Pepper, came up with the idea for Manhattan's first clean-energy powered skyscraper with the hope that it would be a model for all future development in our city. It’s ability to self-sustain without an attachment to the power grid is dependent on the arc reactor. An invention that was first brought to life by Howard Stark, but later perfected by the building’s current owner, Tony Stark. I’m sure that you all heard that the tower was briefly set to be sold but Mr. Stark changed his mind about the deal and, as an employee, I can tell you that we are certainly glad that he did.” 

A hand raises, but this time it's not Flash. 

“Um, is the Tower safe? Cause… doesn’t it get attacked, like all the time?” 

“That’s a very good question,” Lisa says, her smile gentle. “I can understand the concern that you have, but you don’t have to worry. Mr. Stark is all about innovation and improvement. Every attack on the building has led to new breakthroughs in the technology that protects us. The tower has been reinforced against any attack and the security in our internal system has a 100% success rating that hasn’t fallen in the last few years. You are completely safe here.” 

Peter thinks that promise is issued a lot like a challenge and hopes that there’s nothing out there waiting to arise to the occasion and prove Lisa wrong. 

“Now, we’re going to be seeing a “sampler”, so to speak, of the tower. Certain areas are temporarily allowing access for lower level badges. Be ready to swipe them over and over again. That’s one of the drawbacks of top of the line security -- you have to start getting repetitive.” 

“What do you mean by ‘lower level badges’?” Flash asks, his awe about their surroundings turning to outrage when it’s implied that something he has, even a borrowed something, isn’t top of the line. 

“Well, as I mentioned before, there are different levels of badges. Clearance levels go from 0 - 5. At the very bottom are people visiting from other companies. They only have access to the entrance where they are then greeted by an employee who escorts them to where they’re going. Mr. Stark is very careful about his trade secrets as you can imagine. Next is level 1, which applies to visitors like yourselves. You have access to certain rooms in the tower, more than an rival employee would. Next is two, a level for general staff like myself. People who tend to stay in the lower levels of the building, handling things like tours or janitorial. Level three is applicable to interns who work on higher levels but don’t have access to any heavy machinery or chemicals. They tend to work for the level fours, our engineers, our scientists, our brilliant minds that work toward the top of the building and sometimes stay overnight. And level five, of course, is for the top floors where Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts reside in their private penthouse. There’s also a floor for visiting avengers. Only Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, the avengers, and special elected people have badges that high.” 

Peter desperately wants to shove his badge back into his sweatshirt, especially when he sees Flash’s head swivel around to get a look at him. There’s no number on his badge, but the colour is boldly different than everyone else’s and his hand shoots up again. 

“Miss? How come Pen - Parker’s badge is a different colour than ours?” 

Lisa doesn’t even look over at them. “The levels are signified by colours. Level 0 is white, Level 1 is a pale blue. Level 2 is green, level 3 is purple, level 4 is silver, and level 5 is red and gold. I’m sure you can guess why that is.” 

Flash’s eyes nearly bug out of his head and he stops dead in his tracks, pushing through the cluster of students to get to Peter and grab his badge. 

“There’s no way this is real. Mr. Harrington, come look! This badge has to be a fake. There’s no way an intern would have a level 5!” 

“Flash, please.” Mr. Harrington rushes over to shove his arm between them, making Flash drop the badge. “Peter is Mr. Stark’s personal intern. I’m sure it’s part of his job to move around the building and get everywhere.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Peter says, grateful for the save because he honestly didn’t have any idea what he was going to say in response to that. “That’s why. I have to be able to go wherever Mr. Stark is.” 

“That does make sense,” Lisa calls, trying to get order again. “Ms. Potts’ personal assistant also has a badge like that.” 

Flash’s scowl deepens and whips back around to face away from him. He’s followed closely by Mr. Harrington, who leans in to whisper a warning about his behaviour to him.

“Dude,” Ned whispers to him, in awe. “Mr. Harrington totally just saved your life.” 

“Or put a bounty on my head,” Peter says, watching Flash get scolded with a sinking feeling in his gut. Maybe Mr. Stark can take on his teachers, but Flash is just a kid like him and he has a feeling this is an enemy he’s not gonna get any help with. “Let’s just hope that Flash chills out a little.” 

“Flash? Chill? Little? Hope?” Ned repeats, eyebrows raised, and Peter elbows him. 

“Come on. The worst is probably over,” He says, unconvincingly. Unwittingly sending a challenge out into the universe.

One that it’s more than happy to accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a lot more setup for the field trip than actual field tripping, but the world building was just so fun that I got kind of hung up on it. The next chapter is possibly the last chapter! We'll have our field trip and eat it to. 
> 
> No, wait. That saying is about cake. 
> 
> Uh, anyway, I hope you're still enjoying the story! My secret rule for myself was that I wasn't going to update until I had 40 comments because that was the only thing keeping me from posting another chapter on the same day. No pressure to maintain that goal, but I do love hearing your thoughts! It keeps me going. 
> 
> I hope you're all safe and sound in these trying times. <3


	6. Chapter 6

Peter’s hyper-aware that his classmates are all staring at him, now, as they move forward from the entrance and to the first stop on their tour. A long hallway that’s lined with pictures of Stark Industries through the years. Newspaper clippings hailing it the first step toward the future of clean energy, pictures of Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts standing proudly in front of the building, handwritten notes from the desk of Tony Stark with the goals of the company scribbled out in his rough but looping handwriting. And yet, despite all the super-cool stuff that’s surrounding them… Peter is the one getting stared at, like he’s the display and everything else is just background noise.

And it’s disconcerting. 

He doesn’t really know how to feel about it or what to say. Part of him wishes he could enjoy it. Maybe do a little I-told-you-so dance, but it doesn’t really feel like a victory. He’s just kind of tired. So, everyone believes him now. What does that mean? It’s not like he’s going to suddenly be popular. Or maybe they think that he will be, but he’s not sure he  **wants** to be friends with a bunch of people who counted him out from the get-go. The hero worship is so bizarre from this side of things and Peter makes a mental note not to stare at Mr. Stark so much. 

Luckily for him, Lisa is an expert on getting and keeping attention and her never-ending explanation of every photo they pass is pretty good at keeping some of the gazing off of him and all of the conversations to a low murmur rather than a roar. Even so, Peter sticks to the back with Ned who’s positively beaming at everything around them, just to avoid getting roped into a conversation that’ll loop back into his internship. Like, asking how he got it. Where he applied. How it worked out for him. All of those questions that he can’t possibly answer. 

Ned’s questions are easier to deal with. 

“You’ve really never been down here! That’s great! I mean, I was worried that you were going to be bored the whole time and not really have fun hanging out with me but it’s way cooler that we’re both experiencing it for the first time, together!” Ned’s words are somehow moving faster than his lips. It’s like experiencing lag in person and Peter can’t help but grin as they’re ushered into a HUGE elevator. One that’s so spacious and so tall that it seems like it was designed for groups like them… or for the Hulk. “I wish we were allowed to take photos. How cool would that be?” 

“Very,” Peter says, nodding in agreement. “But you know, it’s a legal thing.” 

“Well, Penis -” Flash suddenly hisses behind them. “Maybe you should talk to your good friend Tony Stark about it, since he apparently bends the rules for you. If he can give you an internship, why not let Ned, here, take all the photos he wants?” 

“Life sure is hard when you’re not the one benefiting from special treatment, isn’t?” Michelle says, casually reaching over to grab Flash by the back of his jacket and pull him back a few feet. “Stop breathing down Peter’s neck like you’re going to try to steal his badge or you’re going to get us all kicked out.” 

“I wasn’t going to -” 

Too late. Michelle’s voice, dry as it is, carries to Mr. Harrington. And he, at the words “kicked out” shoves his way through the group to usher Flash to the other side of the elevator and away from Michelle, who looks self-satisfied. 

Peter opens his mouth to thank her, but a melodic chime and Friday’s cool voice interrupts him before he can -

“Welcome to the 20th floor, Midtown High. Remember: Look, but don’t touch. And try not to disrupt our work environment. Thank you and have a pleasant tour.” 

“Thanks, Friday.” Peter says, automatically and at the same time as Lisa.

Everyone’s staring at him again, but not as hard as they do when Friday suddenly chirps back to life with a saucy little, “You’re welcome, Peter.” 

Leave it to Tony Stark to program an AI with a sense of irony. His face is burning with a blush as they step out of the elevator and into the office space, crammed in a single file line between desks. There’s not much in here that seems interesting and even Ned is starting to deflate a little when -

“Heads up!” 

One of the girls further down the line shrieks as a robot crawls past her with determination, a cup of coffee on its back. The liquid inside sloshes without spilling and it’s carefully picked up by one of the desk workers, who lifts it in a “cheers” motion to them. 

“Sorry about that,” He calls, a little smile on his face. “Stark Industries is all about innovation. Even in office spaces like ours.” 

“Yes!” Lisa says, jumping in with that smile on her face. “Believe it or not, there are many robots that are tested for the first time in here. Mr. Stark doesn’t just invent for himself or for the world at large. He’s also known for tinkering with ideas to improve the lives of his employees and for offering his interns the chance to do the same. That automated coffee delivery bot was the invention of one of the interns on the robotics floor. We promote learning and growth through hands-on experience here, not just watching and listening to other people learning around you.” 

There’s a low murmur of awe and appreciation and Peter grins at the coffee bot as it takes another order and dutifully shuffles off. 

“Wow, that’s so cool.” Flash announces, with just a hint of sarcasm underlying his voice. “Ms. Lisa? Since we go to school with an intern, is there any chance we can see one of his robots? Are there any in here?” 

“Well… I, um, I’m not sure.” Lisa says, her expression faltering. “I wasn’t aware that one of our interns would be here. But, um… Mr. Parker? Do you have a project that you would like to show your classmates?” 

Oh boy. 

He’s not sure what Flash’s endgame is, here. If he’s trying to humiliate Peter by assuming that he’s not techy enough to have created anything or if he’s hoping to prove that Peter isn’t really an intern if he doesn’t have a roaming robot around. But, either way, he has effectively backed Peter into a wall. 

Because he HAS worked on things with Mr. Stark. But not a single one of them can be shown off to his classmates. It’s not like he can whip out his web shooters or show off the watch and wireless earbud that he wears to keep him connected to Karen. He’s never really had the chance to make a bot just to see if it would work. There were always more important things to work on. 

“I uh,” He says, his voice cracking. “I don’t think anything I’ve worked on with Mr. Stark would be in here. Everything would be in his private labs and, unfortunately, they’re restricted to everyone.” 

“Except you?” Flash challenges, eyebrows raised. “Wow, that’s super convenient. Isn’t it so cool, guys, how Peter has been in  **the** Tony Stark’s lab, only he can’t prove it?” 

“When did he say that he couldn’t prove it?” 

No one saw her approach but, suddenly, Natasha is right there behind Flash. Fully-suited up like she’s just gotten back from a mission. Her long, bright red hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she has her hand curled into a fist, holding it out to Flash. 

“As it so happens, I was just one floor down testing one of Peter Parker’s inventions. Catch.” 

Flash opens his hand automatically and then  **screams** when a spider is dropped into his hand. A Black Widow, in fact. He flings it out of his hand and, still shouting, stomps his foot down onto it. When he lifts his foot back up, it’s curled up into itself on the ground. 

“Is - is that real?” Flash asks, looking at Natasha with horror. “Black Widow just dropped a black widow in my hand!” 

“It’s a robot.”

Natasha doesn’t even blink. There’s no smile on her face like she enjoyed the display that Flash put on when she put SPI-DER in his hand, but there’s no remorse in her eyes either. She’s just impassive. 

“You asked to see one of his inventions, so I showed you.” 

“That’s a robot?” Flash repeats, uncomprehendingly. And he starts to reach out to grab it but Peter bolts forward, crossing the narrow space between him at his end of the line and Flash where he’s standing, shoving him back away. 

“Flash, don’t!” He says, shaking his head. “You can’t do that.” 

“What, I’m not allowed to touch your robot?” Flash asks, looking startled as he’s shoved away. 

“It’s programmed to bite whoever tries to grab it after trying to squish it. The toxin its teeth are laced with will knock you out.”

“A very effective weapon, I think.” Natasha says. She reaches to her side and pulls out a knife from its sheath, twirling it around in her hands before leaning down to poke the spider with it. It jumps up and immediately tries to sink its fangs into the knife. Natasha wipes the trace of toxin off of her blade with her gloved index finger and thumb and re-sheathes her knife, letting the spider crawl back into her grasp and over her fingers. “Peter, would you like to tell your class about your invention? I came to thank you personally for it. Stark said that you put a great deal of effort into its creation for me.” 

“Of- of course.” Peter stammers, trying not to feel put on the spot. But he has a feeling that SPI-DER had not been a floor beneath them, just based on the way that she’s looking at him. “Uh, this project is called SPI-DER. It stands for System for Portable Information, Data Extraction and Retrieval. Uh, Mr. Stark and I worked on it together as a new weapon for Black Widow. I mean, for - for you. He did the exterior and figured out how to make it indestructible, while I made a microphone that’s half a millimeter long but can still pick up conversations within ten yards.” 

Peter hasn’t been nervous around Natasha in a long time. Not since they’d met, officially, and she dubbed him “baby spider”. But she, like Mr. Stark, has a mask that she wears in public and it’s a little more intimidating than who he knows behind closed doors. 

“And she’s a beauty,” Natasha says, kicking the top of the robot's head before slipping it into her pocket. “You. Teacher.” 

She points at Mr. Harrington. 

“I’m going to have a private conversation with Peter. I have questions about the design of this robot that cannot be spoken in front of the rest of you. I’ll return him in three minutes so he can take part in the rest of the tour.” 

“Uh, I’m not sure if -” 

“Great.” 

Natasha takes Peter by the arm and leads him to the elevator. They step inside and she pushes the button for the bottom floor, again. As soon as the doors close, Peter feels like he can breathe again. Even being under all of the camera’s never felt as stifling or as watchful as his classmates did. And he relaxes his shoulders a little. 

“Um, what questions did you have about the design? Cause, I didn’t really have that big a part in making the exterior or most of the features so you’d really wanna talk to Mr. Stark about -” 

“I didn’t bring you in here to talk about the robot, Peter. I brought you in here because we have a problem.” 

Peter’s heart leapt into his throat. “A - a Spiderman problem? Because I get the suit on in like, five seconds and be ready to -” 

“No.” Natasha interrupts again, holding her index finger up to ask for silence. “Not a Spiderman problem. A Peter Parker problem. SPI-DER has been trailing you since you entered the building. I arrived this morning and thought you’d be a good person to test its capabilities on. I heard what that boy has been saying to you. The one with a complex?” 

“Flash,” Peter guesses, suddenly stricken. “You’re not here to kill him, are you?” 

Natasha’s lips twitch with amusement. Real amusement. “...I thought about it. Briefly. But I felt that there would be something morally wrong with murdering a teenage boy for being a bully. I just want to know why you’re putting up with it.” 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Peter asks, staring at the floor instead of at her as the elevator chimes with every floor that they go down. “I’ve tried killing him with kindness but he doesn’t want to be friends with me. And it’s not like I can just beat him up.” 

“Why not?” 

Natasha is very serious when she asks that question. Peter knows it and he groans. It’s not the first time he’s been asked why he doesn’t use his spidey-skills to teach someone a lesson.

“Because. Spiderman is a secret identity kind of thing. Like Superman, only...real. I have to keep my glasses on and keep from getting into fights because I’d never be able to take him before the spider bite and people would really wonder how I accomplished it after, you know? Besides, I’m way stronger than he is. I could really hurt him.” 

“...You sound like Steve.” Natasha says with a sigh. “Stop smiling, I’m not finished. You sound like Steve in those tacky videos he did to promote harmony between superheroes and regular people. The PSAs.” 

“Oh, I know. We have to watch those in - hey!” Peter says, suddenly offended. “I’m not an after-school special.” 

“No, this is an in school special. Since, technically, that’s what’s happening here.” Natasha says, hitting the button labeled “20” as soon as the doors open to the bottom floor. They start to go back up. “...I understand that you want your identity to be a secret. I don’t understand why you don’t want to solve your problems by kicking them, but I suppose we grew up differently. But there are intermediate options. Like telling an adult or verbally standing up for yourself.” 

“Up until two days ago, none of the teachers at school really cared what I thought,” Peter admits, quietly. “Flash’s parents are the ones with money. He kind of gets whatever he wants because of it.” 

“I can get you money,” Natasha says, blinking with confusion. “If that’s what you need. So could Stark. High-school dynamics are so weird. I thought there’d be more singing like in that movie you made us watch.” 

“That was the dream, not the reality. There’s a lot less dancing than High-School Musical would lead you to believe,” Peter says, smiling wryly. “I’m… okay. Sometimes people are jerks. Isn’t that just part of life?” 

“Only if you don’t kill them.” 

Peter isn’t sure if that was a joke or not and he doesn’t have time to figure it out because the doors open back up and he’s promptly maneuvered back out as Natasha picks up the tail end of an imaginary conversation. 

“ - that was very intuitive of you to add. I can see what Stark meant about you. I have an idea for another weapon. I’d like you and Stark to work on it together. The two of you are a good team.” 

Natasha looks down at her watch as she brings Peter to a stop in front of them. Everyone’s looking at him with equal parts awe and fear. Awe, because he’d just been alone with Black Widow… and fear, because he’d just been alone with Black Widow. 

“Two minutes and 54 seconds,” Natasha says, pushing Peter back into his place in line. “As promised, here he is. Enjoy the rest of your tour.” 

She moves forward without another glance at them, back into the elevator. 

“...Well!” Lisa says, clapping her hands together. “That was certainly an exciting intervention into our tour! And it took up a little more time than I was planning on, so we better hurry. Our next stop is on the upper level to visit robotics. You guys are in for a treat. Today, you’ll be helping interns test their robots and the one that gets the most votes will -” 

“You were just alone with Black Widow!” Ned whispers in his ear, practically vibrating with excitement. “The Black Widow! Peter, oh my god! Everyone was talking about how intense she was and how cool it is that you’re on a first name basis with her. Did you really help design that spider? Of course you did, you’re a genius, I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me all about it because that is so cool. Could you get her to sign my poster too? I was too scared to ask before and -” 

“Ned. Breathe.” Peter interjects, watching with amusement as Ned inhales once before launching right back into what he was saying.

“- Flash was so mad that you went with her. You should have seen his face, I thought he was going to start throwing stuff.” 

Peter turns his head at the mention of Flash, catching a glimpse of the side of his face as he stomped toward the elevator with everyone else, his face still flushed with either rage or embarrassment as he steps in, standing away from his friends who… 

Who are making faces like they’re afraid. Mocking Flash for being freaked out by SPI-DER. And Peter chews on his bottom lip as he follows Ned to the elevator too. Some friends Flash has. At least, no matter what else happens, Peter knows that Ned will always be on his side.

***

The class is  **hype** with pent up energy by the time that they make it to the robotics lab where the interns are. It’s much more spacious here and as soon as Lisa says that they can, everyone bolts to different tables where interns are sitting with their robot designs, ready to show them off and try to win the popular vote. 

Peter hangs back, waving Ned to go and join the fun. It doesn’t feel right for him to put a vote in, since he’s technically an intern here too… and he wonders if he can ask Mr. Stark to let him participate in this game for the next touring school. Maybe he can design a robot to do something cool and useful on his own, without Mr. Stark’s help. See what he’s really capable of and -

“Parker.” 

Peter’s yanked out of his reverie by Flash suddenly grabbing him by his arm and dragging him to the corner of the room, away from everyone else. Mr. Harrington and Lisa are both enraptured by a robot that pours hot-chocolate while doing shaky imitations of disco moves and don’t notice. 

“Flash, let go.” Peter says, under his breath, wrenching his arm free. Great, here they go again. He really should have seen this coming. Of course Flash was going to do or say something else after Natasha made an appearance. What’s it going to be this time? Another barrage of insults? Accusations of bribing someone to get Natasha to make an appearance? Being called -

“...I need you to tell me how you got an internship here,” Flash says, taking Peter completely by surprise. 

“What?” 

“What did you do? How did you do it? I’ve applied six times since my parents found out that you had an internship here and I keep getting told that they don’t allow high-schoolers to intern. You’re not even that much smarter than me. What did you do? How did you do it?” 

Peter’s thunderstruck by the expression on Flash’s face. He’s never seen him look so...insecure, before. 

“Flash, I… it’s hard to explain.” 

“You don’t understand,” Flash says, more urgently this time, looking over to make sure that no one’s watching them. “My parents will  **kill** me if I can’t get this thing. They’ve been all over me ever since you gave your paperwork to the school. I kept telling them that you didn’t really have an internship and they started to calm down, but if they find out that it’s real and I’m not good enough to get it? I… just tell me what you did.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Peter blurts out, too surprised to lie properly. “I… Mr. Stark came to me. He uh, saw a video of me on Youtube. A um, science video that I had posted. Just messing around.” 

Not technically true, but feeling sorry for Flash isn’t enough of a reason to give his identity up. 

“And he um, thought I had potential. He invited me to come here and show him what I could do so I did and… here I am. I didn’t do anything special. I just got lucky.” 

That’s not the answer that Flash wanted to hear. Peter can see the defeat in his eyes and in the way that his lips tremble with unspoken accusations of him being a liar. He’s staring at Peter with desperation, seeking any sign that Peter’s just keeping the secret from him to be a jerk… but then his shoulders slump and he steps back, staring at the ground. 

“Just got lucky,” He repeats, slowly. “My parents are going to love that one.” 

“...Flash?” 

Peter starts to reach out for him, but Flash yanks his arm away before he can touch him. 

“Whatever. Just forget it.” He says, shoving past Peter so he can rejoin the groups huddled around the lab tables, cheering for their favourite robots. 

***

In the end, it’s the disco-bot that wins first place, stealing everyone’s hearts with sick moves and the ability to ‘pee’ out hot-chocolate. A two for one that would seal any high-schooler’s heart. The intern that masterminded it, a girl with green hair named Emma, did a victory lap around the lab to high-five everyone that had voted for her. 

And just like that, the tour is over. 

It ended on a high-note, everyone walking like they’re lighter than air and chatting animatedly about what they’d seen and done as they’re ushered to the elevator by Lisa to head back down to the bottom floor and be ushered onto the bus so that they can make it back to the school in time for the last ten minutes of their final period. A few people who never looked twice at Peter stop to compliment SPI-DER and some even dare to ask if he can get them the avenger’s signatures. 

He has every reason in the world to be happy. 

He finally proved to everyone that he was an intern here.

People saw what he was capable of, he didn’t blow his spider cover, he got to see Natasha, and nothing  _ bit _ him. All in all? That should make it his best field trip ever. 

But he’s not quite as peppy as the rest of his classmates seem to be as they reach the lobby. Not until -

“Mr. Stark?” Lisa asks, sounding stunned. 

Peter’s head snaps up so quickly that he thinks something in his spine actually pops and he, along with everyone else, oggles the man that’s standing in the lobby. 

“Oh, look! High-schoolers!” Tony calls, opening his arms wide in the grand gesture that Peter’s staring to dub as “Stark posturing”. “My favourite. I’m kidding, of course, I didn’t even like teenagers when I was one. But, it’s come to my attention that my intern is still attending high-school for some reason, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello. Maybe sign a few phone cases. Oh, hey, Mr. Hardass. Nice to see you again. No, really, it’s a lot nicer to meet you when you haven’t been harassing my intern. Okay, let’s see! Phones out, who wants my signature? Here’s what we’re going to do. Mr. Harassment? You go to the bus. I’m going to sign a phone or a face, or whatever they want ink on and send them out to you. Just to make sure everyone leaves my building. Ready? Set? Go.” 

Peter watches with wide-eyes as Mr. Stark pulls a sharpie out of his pocket and makes his rounds, signing people’s phone cases, their hands, their foreheads or, in Ned’s case, their poster. He’s energetic and dismissive, making quick work of it and sending kids out happier and faster than they would have gone on their own. 

Until it’s just Flash and Peter left standing in the otherwise deserted lobby. 

“Peter, you don’t really need my signature do you? I mean, I signed that permission slip and the second stack of papers giving you permission to leave so I feel like I’ve done enough. You, though…” 

Mr. Stark points at Flash, who suddenly looks nervous. 

“Eugene, right?” 

“Y-Yes sir,” Flash says, swallowing hard. “And, can I just say it’s an honour to -” 

“You can but you shouldn’t,” Mr. Stark says, waving his hand dismissively. “Because, truth is, I’m here with news that you’re not going to like. So maybe save the pleasantries until the end of my speech. Ready? Here I go. You’re not going to get an internship here while you’re in high-school. You know what? Actually, that’s all I had to say. It’s not going to happen. I’m the only one who can have an exception like that made and I already have an intern, so… moot point. Keep sending in applications and you’re going to get blacklisted.” 

Mr. Stark smiles pleasantly, his eyes impossible to read on the other side of his sunglasses. And Flash’s face turns red, the corners of his mouth drooping downward. 

“I am so glad that we got that out of the way. Now, I owe you a signature. No, no. Put your phone away. I have something special that I am going to sign for you. Pete, turn around for a second.” 

Peter does as told, spinning in place, and standing awkwardly as Mr. Stark presses something against his back and uses him as a living desk to scrawl his name out on it. 

“There. This, Eugene, is a letter of recommendation for an intern position at one the safer, subsidiaries of Stark Industries. We’re its parent company, but it has its own brand and fewer attacks, so it can allow for high-school interns. Your GPA won’t be the most impressive that they’ve ever seen but this should give you an edge.” 

Flash stares at Mr. Stark like he’s grown a second head. 

Peter does too. 

But Mr. Stark doesn’t even seem to blink, just holding it out. “Are you going to take this or not? I don’t have all day.” 

Flash takes the offered paper with a trembling hand, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Th-Thank you so much.” 

“You’re welcome. And hey, in a few years if you still feel like this is something that you want to do, not just something that your parents want for you, then you can reapply and we’ll see what happens.” 

Flash nods, dazed, and starts to stumble for the door, holding the note in his hand like it’s more precious than gold. 

“Oh, and Eugene? One more thing?” Mr. Stark calls, stopping him in his tracks. “We have a zero-tolerance policy about bullying in my company and its subsidiaries. So, I suggest that you find a better outlet for your stress than what you’ve been doing, because I have connections everywhere and I’m not known for giving second chances. And uh, tell Mr. Harrington that I’m keeping Mr. Parker here. For, intern stuff.” 

Flash turns bright red and nods once at Mr. Stark… and then at Peter before he turns and bolts, still clutching the note like it’s solid gold. 

Peter’s pretty sure that his jaw is still on the floor when he looks at Mr. Stark. 

“...What?” Tony asks, mildly. “Don’t worry, I already cleared it with your aunt. Natasha ordered pizza and is demanding that you spend some time with her. And since she used my money to get the pizza, I am entitled to a slice or two and the chance to kick both of your butts at mario kart.” 

“I - that’s not what I was…” 

Peter has to swallow hard, before looking at Mr. Stark again. 

“...That was a really nice thing you did for Flash, Mr. Stark.” 

“Well, yeah. I’m a giver. Give, give, give, that’s all I do.” Mr. Stark says as he wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulder and starts to maneuver him to the elevator that leads up to his penthouse “...Alright, fine. Friday was keeping me updated on what that kid was saying to you all day and I actually wanted to come down here and chew him out. But then Pep asked me a question that made me reconsider.” 

Peter perks up at the mention of Ms. Potts, but he waits until the elevator doors close to ask -

“What did she ask you?” 

Mr. Stark presses the unmarked button at the top of the panel and slides his key card in. “She asked me what you’d want me to do. If you’d want me to publicly humiliate this kid… or if you’d want me to be the hero that he needed, even if he didn’t deserve it. So, there you have it. My attempt at being your friendly, neighborhood Iron man.” 

He pulls his sunglasses off and glances at Peter out the corner of his eye. 

“How did I do?” 

“...I think Flash’s lucky to have you as his hero, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, after a moment of consideration. “And I think I am too.” 

Mr. Stark smiles, then. A real, genuine smile like Peter’s rarely seen from him. 

“That’s sweet, underoos… but I’m still going to kick your ass at mario kart.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there you have it. The end of my first ever fanfic in this fandom and for this trope. I'm sad that it's over, but I hope that the ending was satisfying in its own way. I know that a lot of you REALLY wanted to see Flash get his ass handed to him by being publicly humiliated by Tony just like he'd been humiliating Peter... but, at the end of the day, you gotta ask yourself. What would Spiderman do? 
> 
> Anyway, if you loved it, let me know! If you hated it, please don't tell me. And if you're hoping for more Irondad and Spideyson content, then be on the lookout for my next fanfic which will tackle my second favourite trope: The one where Peter is Tony's biological son. 
> 
> DUN DUN DUN. 
> 
> The ice cream one-shot is also still possible, but we'll see which muse calls louder. 
> 
> You lovely people made this a very positive experience for me! And I can't wait to see what you thought. 
> 
> Stay safe and stay kind to one another.


End file.
